


Pooled Wizardries

by Tomash



Category: Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate, Young Wizards - Diane Duane
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:47:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21722455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tomash/pseuds/Tomash
Summary: A Yeerk is offered wizardry. A new human wizard is waiting for their Ordeal. These events might not be unconnected.
Comments: 13
Kudos: 33





	1. Estril 447

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [Autistic_Ace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Autistic_Ace/pseuds/S_M_F) and [Neshomeh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neshomeh/pseuds/Neshomeh) for beta reading!

Estril 447 of the Telan Nar Pool was thinking, as they often did. They’d gotten good at filtering out the chatter of their large pool over the last few years; it had been quite some time since any of it had been relevant. The local Sub-Vissers and their assistants had concluded that Estril wasn’t aggressive enough and that their skill in geometry wasn’t particularly valuable to the Empire at the moment—and had said as much to them. So, they waited and thought. 

Estril still sometimes dreamed of the promised final glory of the Empire, where every Yeerk would have a host and even the Andalites would be their subjects, but it had been five years since they realized they needed to wait, and the dream had faded. It really didn’t help that, from what they managed to overhear from the back of the pool, things weren’t going particularly well. The Andalite Bandits kept getting in the way of operations on Earth, and a lot of experimental voyages seemed to mysteriously go missing or fail. 

Estril sighed with a brief burst of chemical signals. They just wanted to be useful and helpful and do some good, but they weren’t getting the chance. 

To make the brooding worse, the nagging question of whether everything the Empire was doing was good came back. They hadn’t thought about that much until recently, when they’d overheard a very quiet discussion about whether it wouldn’t be better to only take voluntary hosts. They even considered that maybe, like the person had said, the Yeerks would do fine if they just relied on people who wanted to help. 

Estril had to admit this made some sense to them. They considered trying to find the person they’d overheard to discuss these thoughts further, but that seemed like a spectacularly dangerous plan. You couldn’t go around asking after someone who’d just proposed the Empire stop fighting. That was a great way to get slowly executed for treason and to get whoever you'd decided to ask subjected to a very intense interrogation, at the very least, because there had to be _some_ reason the traitor chose to ask _them_. 

Suddenly, all the noise of the pool faded away. The voices, the summonses to the infestation pier, all of it just … quieted, even though Estril couldn’t feel anyone move. 

Just as suddenly, Estril 447 of the Telan Nar Pool was surrounded by a voice that filled the space around them and seemed to be coming from far above. _The Voice of the Karadona,_ they thought. The stories, they remembered, painted the Voice as a trickster that lured in Yeerks with promises of knowledge and access to the universe, but then left them subject to the whims of inferior species. 

“Those stories distort the truth.” 

Estril froze. If this was the Voice, somehow, they shouldn’t be listening to It at all, but they decided a bit more treasonous listening couldn’t hurt with how their life was going. The worst thing that could happen would be that they’d get executed, which would at least be _something_. 

“I have come to offer you a different path.” said the Voice. “The service of Life.” 

“Isn’t the service of life what we’re already doing?” Estril said. “We need to advance ourselves.” 

“Is it?” 

_Is it?_ Estril thought. _Well, we do need hosts, but—well, I can’t say this, just in case someone hears—do we really need involuntary hosts? They’re life, too, and we’re taking them over to help ourselves … which is what we have to do._

<Do you?> asked the Voice. It began speaking more directly to Estril, becoming another voice in their thoughts. The noise of the pool became less quiet. 

<You can hear my thoughts!>

<When you want me to hear them.>

<It’s safer than talking.>

<Sadly.>

<Maybe we could only have voluntary hosts, like the radical said.>

The Voice didn’t say anything. 

<But why would someone volunteer to serve under Visser 3? And what would we be doing for them?>

The Voice stayed silent. 

<Are you there?> Estril thought at the Voice. <Answer me!>

<I am here, but I will let you draw your own conclusions. I do not dictate, only advise.>

<Well, from what I remember, the Gedd were weak and were the best we could get … did the Gedd need us as much as we needed them?>

<Yes. You and they evolved together—they gave you senses, and you gave them more intelligence and help controlling their bodies.>

<But then, with the Empire … the humans don’t really need us. We’re stealing … but there really isn’t any other way. Not unless we want to be stuck on our homeworld.>

<Some humans would welcome Yeerk help,> the Voice said, <and there can be sources of bodies that aren’t hosts.>

<That was an Andalite lie!> Estril shouted at the Voice. <You just want to trick me!>

<There were plans,> the Voice said. <They were interrupted by the attack.>

Estril took a moment to consider this, trying to keep their thoughts from the Voice. <Even if you’re right, there’s nothing to be done. We’ve made our choice, and we’re at war. All I can do is help how I can.>

<The water cannot be unfouled, but it can be filtered.>

<How?> Estril asked. <What do you _want?_ >

<To fight for Life, and against Death.>

<What do I have to do with that?> Estril asked. <I’m a hostless nobody!>

In a much different cultural context, the Voice would have replied with “The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone.” In this one, however, They went with <Antlis, scorned by the others, ventured away and returned with great treasures.>

<How am I supposed to do that? I can’t even leave here, let alone do anything!>

<What I offer you is wizardry—the power to speak and have the universe listen, so you can work against entropy.>

<I’ve heard stories of this sort of thing—people tempted with offers of their own bodies. There was always a price.>

<I cannot deny,> the Voice explained softly, <that there are costs to the Art. Yes, there is power, but it is power meant for service, even though it can help you. You may be injured or killed.>

<That’s always been a risk,> Estril said quietly. 

<True, but I do need to warn you.>

<Well, so, what does the power you’re offering give me?> Estril asked. <I still don’t see what I can do.>

<You will be able to speak to anyone and anything: the water, your body, aliens, even the fabric of space itself. You will be heard and, in many cases, obeyed. And yes, you would be able to build a body for yourself if you needed it. I would teach you.>

<Couldn’t I abuse this?> Estril asked. <I could, hypothetically, take this power and use it to get on the Council of Thirteen and ignore the whole business of fighting for Life.>

<We, the Warm Ones, would not be offering this to you if we thought you would do that.> replied the Voice. <In any case, if you _do_ turn to such ends, the Art will be taken from you.>

Estril swam around a little bit, pondering this. As they did so, the silence faded away and was replaced by the daily business of the pool—comings, goings, gossip and all that. No one seemed to have noticed anything remotely odd had been going on. 

Estril noticed something interesting about the Voice. <Excuse me,> they said as quietly as they could, trying to resume their conversation with the Voice. 

<Yes?> the Voice replied. 

<You mentioned the Warm Ones. Does that mean that the Shaker is real also? The one who bravely rebelled and brought change to the world so we could become better?>

<Yes, that one—Ground-Shaker, Parent of Yeerk-Eaters, and all the other titles they have gained throughout the worlds. We often call them the Lone Power. They have gained across the words—is the enemy you would fight.>

<But …> Estril stopped thinking at the Voice and gathered their thoughts. Then, they continued <Change is good, right? It drives us forward.>

<Some change is good, yes, but pain and suffering are not. As a wizard, you would be responsible for encouraging good changes and preventing bad ones, as much as you can.>

<The Shaker doesn’t have much to do with death, though,> Estril replied. <Not the way I’ve heard about it.>

<Think about the stories again, and remember their source.>

Estril started thinking back to all the legends they’d heard, all the great advances the Shaker was said to have produced. They went through and noticed how some rather terrible things—cave-ins, deaths, and the like—were glossed over. It was rather like…rather like what they’d noticed the Visserarchy doing with less-favorable war news a few times. 

<So, like you said earlier, the stories I grew up with were …> They couldn’t bring themself to complete the sentence. 

<Distorted? Propagandized? Twisted? Altered to serve someone’s purposes?> the Voice suggested. 

<… Those things, yeah.> Estril said. <Um, can I take some time to think things over? Finding out everything might be even more off than I thought it was is a lot to process, and I’m still not sure that I agree with what you’re saying.>

<Go ahead,> replied the Voice. <I will be here when you decide, or if you have questions.>

* * *

Over the next few days, Estril’s behavior didn’t seem to change much. They still wandered around the back of the pool, lost in thought. On top of that, almost no one was paying attention to them. They were just some random, failed, hostless nobody who would eventually get a meaningless position when the Empire ran out of better options for filling it. 

For Estril, however, a lot had changed. They didn’t spend those days in contemplation. Instead, they _listened_. They listened to what people were saying around them, and, more importantly, to what their words _meant_. They listened to the flow of the Yeerk Empire around them, and considered, in a way they hadn’t before, what the glorious struggle for liberation on everyone’s palps actually _constituted._

They didn’t like what they heard. 

They heard the lives of people, people just like them aside from their eyes, arms, and legs, being destroyed, twisted, and taken over to serve the whims of the Empire, and that destruction being discussed as if it were no more important than the weather. 

They heard talk of breaking hosts, no, people, as if they were an inconvenient rock on the pool floor. 

They heard of countless deaths, or, as people liked to call them, “sacrifices.” The host involved was at best completely unmentioned; at worst an inconvenient obstacle. 

Almost no one seemed to realize what they were _doing_ —or worse, they realized and didn’t _care_. 

Sure, a few radicals did their best to quietly make things just a small bit better, but that was nowhere near enough. 

Estril 447 of the Telan Nar Pool resolved to do something. Their people were creating the same oppression they sought to escape, and weren’t even hiding it. All one had to do was listen and think, and it was clear how misguided the Empire was. 

This couldn’t go on. 

They’d known that in their heart for some time, but there had always _obviously_ been nothing to be done. 

But now … 

<Voice?> they thought. They knew that what they were thinking about, let alone what they were planning, was treason, and no longer cared. This was the chance they’d been looking for; the chance to make a difference. 

<Yes?>

<What do I have to do to accept your offer? This can’t go on.>

<Before you accept, there is one more thing you need to know. Every wizard, when they receive the Art, will be tested in an Ordeal. This Ordeal is a situation they, and, in some cases, those with them, are the right ones to handle. It will require you to face some significant work of the Lone One, or sometimes, that Power itself.>

<It will be difficult,> the Voice continued. <You may even die. But I will tell you what you need to know as best as I can, so that you do not face this test unprepared.>

<I understand,> Estril declared. <So, what do I do?>

<You must swear the Oath. I will tell it to you.>

The Voice told Estril the Oath. As They did so, the noise of the pool receded away, just as it had when Estril was first contacted by Them. The words of the Oath echoed in the water, and Estril repeated them: 

“In all Life’s name, and for Life’s sake, I swear that I will employ the Art that is its gift for Life’s service alone, rejecting all other usages. I will guard growth and ease pain. I will fight to preserve what lives and grows well in its own way, and change no object or creature unless its growth and life, or that of the system of which it is part, are threatened. To these ends, in the practice of my Art, I will put aside fear for courage, and death for life, when it is right to do so, until Universe’s end.” 

As Estril 447 of the Telan Nar Pool finished speaking this Oath, the world seemed to press in around them. 

“Now what?” Estril asked. The silence began to fade away. 

“Now, I must tell you how to practice the Art, and what it means,” replied the Voice. 

The noise of the pool came back. Nothing seemed different, and yet, to Estril, everything was. 

* * *

Over the next two weeks, the Voice told Estril many things. 

Estril learned of history: of the Powers and their deeds, and of great Yeerk wizards from before the Empire, and what they had done, both alone and in partnership with other species. 

They learned of the Speech and what it could do: spells to bend light, to translocate, to make artificial eyes and ears and arms, spells for force fields or pockets in space, and many other things besides. They learned of the many modes of the Speech: how to speak to the world with their words, secretions, and movements, or how to do the same things with a mouth and hands. Estril wasn’t sure they’d need that second part, but the Voice insisted it was important. 

They learned of the many worlds and the peoples that inhabited them, from the Rirhait who maintained the Crossings to rats. 

They learned of the great dangers of psychotropic wizardry, and the dire consequences that would come from misusing it, but also of how to perform it, since they might be more suited than most for such work. 

They learned of the importance of names, and what could result from changing them. 

They learned of many of the works of the Lone Power, and how to confront them. 

They learned all these things, and more, but didn’t try to put them to use. It was too risky. Someone might _notice_ , and that would be the end of the first Yeerk wizard in quite some time. 

Even this learning couldn’t be hidden forever, though. The conversations with no one every once in a while that made absolutely no sense were noticed by someone, eventually. That someone decided to angle for a promotion, er, “contribute to the functioning of the Empire,” by reporting this clearly unstable person who might eventually cause some problems. 

And so, two weeks after they’d sworn the Oath, Estril was approached by a few assistants to some Sub-Visser. “Estril 447,” one of them said, “we have a few questions about your behavior.” 

Estril felt a brief flash of panic. Then, they came to a decision: _Well, if they suspect, might as well …_

“This is a class-5 translocation spell,” they shouted in the direction of their inquisitors. The silence Estril had remembered from his Oath surrounded them again. 

The Voice came into the silence, prompting Estril with the parts of the spell they didn’t remember. 

They called out their name, and the volume of pool liquid they wanted to take with them. 

For their destination, they simply said “Somewhere I can be helpful.” 

As Estril neared the conclusion of their first spell, their interrogators decided they should do something about this crazy person. 

They rushed in to pin down Estril, but, as they were closing in on them, Estril tied off their spell. 

_WHUMP._

Estril disappeared. 

The water of the pool rushed in to fill in the place Estril used to be, creating a wave that rippled out into the area. The interrogators slammed into each other, pulled along by the vortex, and were very confused. After quickly recovering from the impact, they quietly decided not to mention this to anyone, since they didn't want any questions about _their_ recent behavior. Estril's absence therefore went generally unnoticed and unremarked on, and life continued on as usual at the Telan Nar Pool. 


	2. Julian Anders

Julian Anders was in bed, reading. It was rather late at night, and he _probably_ should have been sleeping, but he couldn’t put down the book he’d gotten out of the library a few days ago and just now started on. This wasn’t particularly unusual behavior for him, and his parents had pretty much given up on stopping him. 

_Wizardry: A Practical Guide_ wasn’t what he’d expected when he’d grabbed it from the library. From the cover, it had looked like an interesting take on urban fantasy. However, it had turned out to be some sort of science fiction … or maybe science fantasy? 

The book alternated between stories of people (both human and very much not) saving the universe, the planet, or just a dying tree, and elaborate descriptions of the magic system that would be quite helpful for someone trying to use it, if it were real. As to the system itself, Julian had to admit, hacking on the universe to fight entropy was a pretty neat idea. 

Thoughts like that kept Julian from looking at any sort of clock as the night deepened outside his window. When he finally checked the time, he noticed it was getting close to 3 AM. This jolted him out of reading, so he thrust a bookmark in, put the book on his nightstand, and went to bed. 

The next day, Julian couldn’t wait to get back to the book, and was distracted by it throughout his lessons. Teleporting by asking space-time nicely to move, walking on water, _several_ different ways to shapeshift … these were all consequences of a simple idea about how magic would work. Julian’s notes very quickly drifted into hypothetical spells that surfaced from the buzz of thoughts and ideas the guide had touched off. 

When he got home, he rushed to keep reading. However, though he was expecting to find the guide to plurality and cooperative spellcasting he’d stopped on the night before, he instead found a mostly blank page with one block of text on it: the Wizard’s Oath. 

“Weird,” Julian said, frowning. 

He turned a few pages, and there it was again, replacing the bottom half of the page while the original text (something about someone stopping an earthquake) continued above it. 

“The heck?” Books didn’t suddenly change contents, last he’d checked. 

_Maybe it’s real!_ Julian thought. _I could have_ magic _and save the world and—hold on, I should eat dinner and_ maybe _start this essay before I go save the world._ He’d started paying more attention to these types of realizations lately, since they were most of what kept from getting too lost in fantasies and projects. 

As soon as he could, Julian opened the book to see if it was still acting up. It was. Whichever page he turned to had the Oath taking up the bottom half, with the text of the book spreading out onto more pages to compensate. Despite this, the _Practical Guide_ didn’t get any thicker. 

Julian smiled. _With how weird this book is, this stuff is probably real,_ he thought. _And if it is, even though the Ordeal sounds very dangerous … it’d be_ so cool _!_ _I want to be a wizard!_

He then looked over the Oath one last time, and, slowly, wanting to sound extremely serious about it (because it’d be bad form not to, right?), he began to read: 

“In Life’s name, and for Life’s sake, I swear that I will use the Art which is its gift in Life’s service alone, rejecting all other uses.” As Julian read the Oath, everything quieted down as the Universe leaned in. The hum of the AC seemed to be much further away, even though nothing had moved. “I will guard growth and ease pain. I will fight to preserve what lives and grows well in its own way, and I will change no creature or object unless its life and growth, or that of a system of which it is part, are threatened. 

“To these ends, in the practice of my Art, I will set aside fear for courage, and death for life, when it is right to do so—till Universe’s end.” 

Julian wasn’t sure what he thought would happen when he got done reading. Nothing? A flash of light? A sudden rush of mystical knowledge? 

The actual result was none of these things. The hovering, curious quiet that had enveloped the room faded away, and the noises of a typical suburban American town returned to their usual intensity. The copies of the Oath that had started taking up half of each page of the _Guide_ faded, and the text somehow rearranged itself back into its usual layout before Julian’s eyes. 

Julian stared at the book, waiting to see if it’d do anything else weird, and then rubbed his eyes, just to make sure he wasn’t imagining things. He didn’t try to keep reading yet _—_ he was waiting for the magic to happen. 

His contemplation was interrupted by a tiny voice from near the window going “bright. bright. bright. OW! bright.” 

Julian turned towards the window and looked to see what was going on there. After moving closer and looking for the source of the voice, he saw a moth trying to get out of his room. 

Julian reached to open the window. “Here, let me get that—” 

“bigbigbig! dodge!” 

The moth dodged out Julian’s way as he went to open the window. 

“There, I got the window for you.” 

“Hello?” 

“Yeah, try going to the bright thing again. Won’t hurt anymore.” 

With a “bright!”, the moth fluttered through the opening. Julian closed the window behind it and pulled the blinds down so more moths wouldn’t get confused. _I guess letting the moth out of my room is magic, huh?_ he thought. _Wait, how’d I do that? Can I just talk to animals now? I'm a wizard?!_

Julian needed to find out more about what had happened, and there was only one way to do it: checking the book. As luck would have it, when he reopened it to Chapter 2: Initial Exercises, he found the answer. “One of your most useful tools,” the book said, “is that you can understand—and be understood by—most anything, whether you’d think of it as ‘living’ or not. The Art is not primarily about flashy, heroic interventions, though those can happen. Instead, your main tools are observation and communication. Before you go around changing the world, you must understand what changes are needed and which ones aren’t—what spell will be useful, and which seemingly appropriate ones will do more harm than good. 

“Your first exercise, therefore, is to listen to your surroundings until you hear from something or someone.” 

_I think I just did that one,_ Julian thought. _Heard from a moth. So that’s magic? … That’s magic!_ He knew then he wouldn’t be getting a lot of sleep that night, and he sat down to keep reading. 

“You will need to refine this skill while you also learn the basics of wizardry,” the book said. It continued into the syllabary, a basic grammar, mathematical notation, and other such details that would make the rest of the Manual more helpful than confusing. Julian spent a while practicing his magical handwriting (turns out, things are more fun when they're magical, including the writing practice he’d never liked in elementary school). 

Soon, though, Julian wanted to get to something more interesting, but he first hit another important warning: “In many spells, you’ll need to name people—often yourself. Be careful with these names, as what you say in a spell becomes reality. If you change someone’s name, or even make a large enough mistake, they will change to match your description. 

“To make this process easier and ward off some catastrophes, this Manual can help construct people’s names, which will be especially helpful before you develop a shorthand.” 

As he reached the end of that section, Julian yawned. He closed his Manual, remembering something he’d read earlier about how making yourself not sleep with magic was really an emergencies-only thing. “At least there’ll be a big chart for the really dangerous things,” he said quietly while inserting a bookmark. “Or maybe I can just talk to the magic book. That’d be _so_ cool.” 

When Julian opened his Manual the next morning, the page he’d been reading became light gray as text appeared on top of it: “Yes, you can talk to the book.” 

Julian rubbed his eyes, still not used to the fact that magic was a thing. “Wait, _really_?” 

“Yes, really.” The font managed to project deadpan snark somehow. 

“What can I ask for?” 

“This Manual’s functions include information lookup, performing calculations, and providing interactive help with common wizardries. While it cannot advise on what to do or provide extensive creative input, it can help with the routine aspects of wizardry.” 

“Ok, so can you help me teleport to school? I want to keep reading.” 

“Frivolous teleports are not recommended. You're close enough to walk, and the energy expenditure may not be worth the time you’d save.” 

“Buzzkill,” Julian muttered at the Manual. The book didn’t respond, and the conversation faded from its pages. 

As much as Julian wanted to teleport, fly, or otherwise magic his way to class, the warnings about using energy responsibly had made an impression on the young wizard. _Having the Powers annoyed with me right from the start feels like a bad idea,_ he reasoned. _Even if they wouldn’t turn me into a newt or anything … right?_ “Ok, you've got a point, but ...” he added. 

“Watch for opportunities to use magic,” read the page he happened to have open, “and remember: there are no coincidences.” 

Julian’s first day after taking the Oath didn’t start out much different from the day before. Classes were still classes, the people still seemed like people, and he didn’t find out there was a dragon secretly living in the gym or anything (much to his disappointment, since it sure sounded like there was one sometimes). 

Things changed, however, after he’d sat down for lunch. 

“Just need to get through this one last thing to reach that good nesting spot, let’s go!” he heard someone, probably a mouse, say squeakily from under the floor. Julian nearly dropped his fork and sat rather still. _Is this it?_ he wondered. _Is this when I get to bust out a spell and save the day?_

Then, just to make the situation more complicated, the hum of the AC sharpened into a grumbled “I need that wire.” 

_So, there’s a mouse about to chew through the AC wires,_ Julian figured, reaching for his Manual. _Maybe I can make them one of those space tunnel things! Sure, it’s not saving the planet, but I probably have to start somewhere smaller._

“Daí,” he whispered, remembering that greeting from his reading. 

“Hello?” the mouse replied, sounding confused. 

“Hi, I’m Julian! I'm a wizard!” Julian did his best to keep this to an excited whisper so everyone didn’t think he was crazy. 

“Is something wrong?” 

“The wire you’re about to chew through helps keep the place cold and might hurt you on top of getting people looking around by your new home,” Julian explained. “I can—” 

“Thank you!” the mouse interrupted.“We’ll find a way around, don’t worry. Anything else I should watch out for?” 

“Uh … nothing I know about? You sure you don’t need help?” 

“I’m good. Thanks for the warning!” The mouse sounded relieved, but also quite busy. 

Julian finished his lunch slowly, disappointed that he didn’t get to do any cool wizard stuff. As he was leaving, though, he noticed the AC seemed happier. He smiled at that, since even though he hadn’t gotten to do any _magic_ magic, he’d still done something helpful with his new powers. Maybe soon, instead of just reading about heroes, he could _be_ the hero! 

Julian spent the rest of the school day dreaming about and planning for his chance at magical adventure, though much of this “planning” was coming up with a design for a magic sword while ignoring the particulars of how to make one. 

His chance at heroism came quicker than he expected. As he was walking home from school, he heard someone complain, “It’s gonna get hard to breathe soon with all this crap that’s getting dumped into _my_ water” from off to his left. 

He turned into a park he was walking past and looked down at the pond near the entrance. It was home to one large fish, and probably some other, smaller creatures. He could see a pipe leading into the bottom of the pond that was dumping out some sort of cloudy substance which was spreading throughout the whole thing. While the stuff was also being drained out, there was still enough of it to make the water rather cloudy. 

“You want me to try and get the stuff out?” he asked the fish, rather excited by the prospect of getting to do a spell—cleaning up a pond surely wasn’t frivolous magic use, right? 

“ _Duh_ ,” replied the fish. Then it realized who was talking, “I mean, yes, Emissary.” Julian knew this was a title used for wizards, but hadn’t expected to hear it applied to him so soon. 

_It’s so amazing how well this works,_ Julian realized. _I somehow caught that the fish was embarrassed about that. I didn’t even know fish_ can _be embarrassed._

“I'm still new to being a wizard, but I’ll try to help.” 

“Do hurry up,” the fish said. “It’s been getting worse the last few days.” 

_Rude,_ Julian thought. _Still, I’d better get onto this!_

He sat down by the pond and pulled out his Manual, ready to save the day. He soon stumbled into his first hurdle, though: working out what that cloudy white stuff was. Fortunately, the _Practical Guide_ ’s table of contents listed a section on analysis and identification spells. Julian tried to flip right to it, but kept missing the page in his excitement. Conveniently, the first spell he found was a rather simple “What’s in here” diagram that the book said “was versatile but inefficient.” 

Julian, with some help from his Manual, spent about fifteen minutes writing out a spell diagram in his notebook. He then tore out the pages and carefully arranged them on the ground, keeping everything in place with a few large rocks. He hadn’t expected this bit to take so long, but being precise about what “the pond” was, what sort of analysis he wanted, and what shouldn’t be included (like the fish) all took a while. 

Soon, Julian was satisfied with his first bit of magic, even though the lines were wobbly in places and his handwriting was nowhere as neat as what was in the book. He looked down and began to read. He did his best to turn the spell into a serious chant, which was how he’d always pictured spellcasting, but the tempo varied as he balanced the rush of doing magic and the need to not mispronounce anything. The impact of his reading wasn’t as dramatic as he’d expected, but, as the spell concluded and words started appearing in the diagram, the young man couldn’t think of any better word for this than _magical._

Julian picked up the pages and began to look up all the Speech terms he didn’t recognize (so, most of them), desperate to find the problem. Almost everything on the list was either something he’d expect in a pond or that the book said should be there. There was one major exception: the waste of an alien species. 

Julian scratched his head after he’d made it through everything. “How’s alien poop getting into the pond?” he asked himself. “Maybe we're getting invaded! Or there’s a galactic littering ring!” 

He paused. “Either way, the fish’s problems should come first.” He picked up his Manual to get to work, but then noticed how hungry he’d gotten. _Right, dinner. I should go do that. Especially since spells take energy. And I probably should do the planning in my room where I have a chair._

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Julian reassured the fish as he went home. 

“Take your time. I've got all year, no problem.” 

Julian decided that this was the most sarcastic fish he’d ever met. Sure, for now, it was the only fish he’d met, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to see that level of snark too often. 

Julian holed up in his room and got straight to work, pausing for dinner once it was ready. He went back and forth though the manual, putting together a solution to the fish’s problem. Spells for filtering things, spells for moving stuff around, spells for safely disposing of potentially dangerous chemicals, frameworks for keeping something running long-term; all of it got blended together in a hurry. Julian had magic to do, after all, and he wanted to get out there before it was too late in the evening. Going out to get some fresh air was normal, but sneaking out at night to cast a magic spell would make his parents think he was crazy. 

The Manual helpfully suggested a few additions to the spell, like a clause that would pull someone in to help if things got out of control. Once he was done, Julian asked his magic book, “Does this look good to you?” 

After a moment, the book’s answer appeared on the page, translucently hovering over the diagram. “The spell is balanced and contains no clear errors.” 

“But will it work?” 

“I’m not one of the Powers, just a Manual.” Julian wasn’t sure how a font could chuckle, but this one did. 

“Fair enough.” 

As soon as he’d gotten permission to be out, Julian ran to the park, his Manual tucked away in a bag along with a pointy black hat he’d worn last Halloween. If he was going to be a wizard, he needed to look like it. Sadly, the robe from that costume didn’t fit anymore, but Julian made do with what he had. 

“I've got it!” he shouted down to the fish, not really minding that he might sound a bit strange doing that. “I put something together that should get the stuff, which is probably alien poop or something like that, out and keep more from sticking around.” 

“Good,” the fish replied. “It’s getting pretty bad.” 

“Anyone else got objections?” Julian asked the pond at large. The plants and other small creatures either didn’t respond or were generally in favor of cleaning the place up. The sludge didn’t protest, either. 

Julian opened his Manual and had it make the diagram he’d written glow softly so he’d have an easier time following his work. He looked down at the dirty water, took a deep breath, and began to read. 

The world stood still, waiting to see what would happen. 

The surface of the pond became cloudy, then clear, as the contaminants were carefully piled on a nearby rock. 

The water coming out of the pipe cleared up as the spell started proactively filtering it. 

The stuff on the rock began to change into something harmless. 

Then, Julian felt the spell keep going further into the pipe. 

And going. 

And reaching another body of water. 

_No no no no no!_ Julian thought. _I forgot to limit that!_

_WHUMP._

The spell snapped out of existence. 

A small gray slug appeared in the pond right in front of Julian, along with some of the sludgy water Julian had been trying to get rid of. 

<Daí?>

Julian heard the voice in his head in a somewhat different way than he heard the fish. 

He walked over to shore, still shaken from the mistake he’d experienced just a moment ago. 

“Hi!” he said. “Are you a wizard, too?” 

Estril took a moment to consider their response. 

<Yes. Where am I? And who are you?>

“You’re … on Earth?” Julian replied, uncertain. “And, uh, in a pond. Anyway, I’m Julian—Julian Anders. I’m still pretty new to this wizard thing, so …” 

<And I am Estril 447 of the Telan Nar pool. I’m also a rather new wizard.>

“Nice to meet you, Estril 447!” Julian replied. “I, uh, might need your help with my spell.” 

<I might need your help too,> Estril said. <I don’t want them to find me.>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to once again thank my beta readers for their help in making this chapter work. I'll also note that constructive criticism is welcome.


End file.
